


Live a Little

by Seraph_Novak



Series: Destiel One-Shots [39]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Class President Castiel, Confessions, Crushes, First Kiss, Fluffy, Graduation, M/M, Misunderstandings, One Shot, POV Castiel, Rebel Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 07:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15529515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraph_Novak/pseuds/Seraph_Novak
Summary: When Dean Winchester gets into trouble yet again, he's assigned to help Castiel plan their upcoming graduation party as punishment. Castiel is determined to get the job done without any distractions, but his ridiculous crush on the other boy is making it rather difficult to focus...





	Live a Little

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! This was a fic request I got on FB. I had a lot of fun writing this one, so I hope you enjoy reading it! As always, all kudos and comments are very much appreciated :) ♥

Castiel was so engrossed in his checklist of essentials for the upcoming graduation party that he didn't even notice the doors to the auditorium opening and closing behind him. As Senior Class President, he'd been placed in charge of planning the event – arguably the most important task he'd ever been entrusted with during his four years as a respectable student at Lawrence High – and he was determined to make it the greatest graduation party in the history of this town.

"Okay," he murmured to himself, slowly running the end of his pen down the checklist pinned to the wall. "We have balloons, music, food and drink, decorative flowers for the tables... What else is there –"

"I think you're missing the ice sculpture," a voice behind him said, interrupting his train of thought.

Castiel frowned. "We're not having an ice sculpture."

"It was a joke, dude."

"Dude?" Castiel turned around with furrowed brows, ready to reprimand this listless student for distracting him. But when his eyes landed on the tall, freckled boy standing before him, his aggravation transformed into a familiar combination of hatred and longing.

"Dean Winchester," he said, willing the blush in his cheeks to settle down. "What are you doing here? It's a Saturday."

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels. "Yeah, I know... Thanks for reminding me." He sighed. "Singer told me I've gotta help you guys plan this stupid party for graduation. It's my punishment, I guess."

"What did you do this time?"

Dean grinned. "I got bored in detention, so I set the bin on fire."

"Oh, how clever of you." Castiel rolled his eyes. "Haven't you got a younger brother who goes here? Did you even consider his safety before you decided to perform that little stunt?"

Dean grabbed a fistful of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. "Don't talk about my brother," he growled, his breath hot against Castiel's face. There was barely an inch between them, and Castiel could scarcely breath against the arm pinning him in place, but he wasn't afraid. Despite the rumours, he'd never believed that Dean was a dangerous person. Not really.

"I'm sorry," he said, lifting his hands in surrender. "That was low of me, I'll admit."

Dean studied his face for a moment, then let him go. "Whatever," he said. "I ain't here to kick your ass anyway... The sooner I get this shit done, the sooner I can bounce."

"Exactly." Castiel nodded. He wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of spending an entire Saturday with Dean Winchester, but as long as the other boy was willing to help, there was no point in complaining. "We have a checklist on the wall here... Just pick a task and put a star next to it. Once you're finished, you can tick it off. Sound simple enough?"

Dean snorted. "I'm sure I can handle it, your majesty."

"Well, good. If you need me, I'll be sorting through these boxes. We had quite a large delivery this morning, so it should take me most of the day."

"Fine."

"You're okay to work by yourself?"

Dean snatched the pen out of his hand and scribbled a messy star next to 'table arrangements". It was one of the most important responsibilities on the list, but Castiel forced himself to smile as he handed Dean the sketched-out plan he'd drawn up a few nights before.

"Here you go," he said, as breezily as possible. "It's fairly simple, but you might need some help if the tables are too heavy –"

"Don't worry about it."

Before Castiel could protest further, Dean shouldered past him and made his way towards the jungle of tables in the corner of the room. He watched with a strange sense of dejection as the other boy slipped on a pair of bulky headphones and got to work. A part of him wanted to reach out and talk to him, to ask him why he lashed out and caused trouble on a daily basis.

But instead of listening to the traitorous, hormone-riddled voice in his head, Castiel rolled up his sleeves and turned away, returning his focus to the mass of boxes heaped on the stage instead.

"Okay," he said to himself. "Let's do this."

~~~~~

It was crawling past midday when Castiel finally finished sticking photos of the soon-to-be graduating students around the room, effectively covering every square inch of the ugly, off-colour paint peeling off the auditorium walls. He took a step back and admired his work, pointedly ignoring the fact that none of the group photos of smiling teenagers included himself. He'd always had so much to do during his school years; having a social life had never been his main priority.

A photo of Dean caught his eye – that signature, cocky smirk almost as annoyingly handsome as it was in person. The pretty blonde on his arm – Jo Harvelle, he was sure – was smiling up at him like he hung the moon. He hated himself for being able to sympathise with her.

"Stop it," he muttered to himself. "Dean Winchester is nothing but a hoodlum... By this time next year, you'll have forgotten all about him."

After the photos, it was time to sort out the balloons. He'd divided the delivery into three separate boxes – one for outside, one for the auditorium, and one for around the doorways, windows, and stage. It was going to be magical.

Once he'd spent close to an hour blowing up and tying a box of stringless balloons, he fetched the ladder from the supply closet and propped it up against the stage. In his mind, he could picture the arch of balloons – alternating between different shades of blue – highlighting the stage, and he couldn't help a smile creeping onto his face. It was going to look spectacular.

"You need me to hold the ladder?" Dean called to him from across the room, one headphone lifted away from his ear.

Castiel scoffed. Other than stealing his balloons and purposely popping them for fun, Dean had been ignoring him all morning; there was no way he was going to indulge the other boy by allowing him to feel useful now.

"I'll be fine," he said.

"You sure?"

"Yes, Dean. I'm not completely helpless."

Dean shot him a venomous smile. "Suit yourself, asshole."

Castiel bit back the urge to apologise and started to climb the ladder, a trash bag full of balloons slung over his shoulder. Once he reached the top rung, he spared a glance in Dean's direction, but the other boy wasn't looking at him; he was back to arranging tables and mouthing the lyrics to classic rock songs.

_"Why do I care?"_ he thought to himself. _"I don't want Dean Winchester looking at me. I don't need his validation..."_

But even as the words replayed in his mind, his heart ached for the boy in the battered leather jacket. Dean was insufferable – a reckless idiot with a tendency to make Castiel's job as Senior Class President extremely difficult – but there was a soft side to him as well, and Castiel was foolish enough to fall for it. Back in Middle School, when Charlie Bradbury came out as gay, Dean had defended her against a group of bullies in front of the entire playground. Castiel had never forgotten that day, and a part of his heart still beat for the freckled boy who didn't give a damn what people thought about him – even though he'd grown up to be a complete and utter assbutt.

"Focus," he chastised himself.

As he reached up to pin the first balloon above the stage, the ladder wobbled beneath him. Castiel sucked in a breath and stood still – one arm still outstretched – until it corrected itself. His hands were shaking, and a cold sweat dripped down his neck. But he was determined to finish this job without Dean Winchester's help. It was a matter of principle at this point.

"Okay," he sighed in relief. "It's okay. I'm alive. Everything's fine."

He shook off his nerves and tried again, pinning a line of balloons across the top right corner of the stage. It was therapeutic work, but it didn't take long before his arm couldn't reach any further to the left. If he wanted to continue in a safe and efficient manner, he'd have to get down and move the ladder slightly across. It would be time-consuming, but at least he'd be decreasing his chances of falling to his death.

Just as he was about to start climbing down, Dean caught his eye – yet again. Castiel watched the other boy as he consulted his drawn-out plan, then dragged another table across the room. It wasn't until he glanced over his shoulder that he realised how far Dean had progressed.

"He's almost finished," he said to himself, his disbelief quickly morphing into frustration. "I can work quickly, too. I'll just have to cut a few corners... I can do that. It'll be fine."

He shook out his arms and rolled his neck from side to side, then attempted to reach across the balloons without losing his balance. The ladder shuddered beneath him, groaning in protest as Castiel shifted onto his tip toes. He could hear the top rung rattling a warning, but he continued to stretch his arm beyond its natural length, the muscles in his back screaming with the effort. If he could just get a good enough grip on the curtain pole, he could quickly pin the balloon in place without falling. All he had to do was persevere, and –

The ladder skidded beneath his foot. He felt his knee buckle, then his weight begin to fall forward. The trash bag dropped from his hand, a flurry of balloons bursting into the auditorium.

His heart skipped a beat as he started to fall.

As if in slow motion, a dark blur moved across the stage beneath him. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the pain that was sure to follow. But instead of the hard, wooden surface of the stage, his body was met with something warm and soft. Arms wrapped around his waist and rolled him to the side, the clang of the ladder ringing in his ears as it collapsed mere inches away from his face. A dust cloud rose and dispersed in the air, and silence surrounded him like an old, comforting blanket.

He could breathe again.

"Are you okay?"

Castiel forced himself to open his eyes. Dean Winchester was hovering over his face, a halo of dust illuminated by the fluorescent lights above his head. He looked absolutely stunning.

"You saved me."

"Well, yeah." Dean grabbed him roughly by the arm and yanked him to his feet. "You almost got yourself killed, you idiot!"

Castiel flinched and ducked his head. "I'm sorry," he croaked. "I don't know what I was thinking. I was trying to work faster, and I... Wait a second. Are you hurt?"

Dean rubbed his elbow and winced. "It's just a scrape. I'll be fine."

"Let me see."

"I said I'm fine."

"I don't believe you." Castiel lifted a challenging eyebrow. "You might be bleeding. I need to clean the wound before it gets infected."

"What're you, a fucking doctor?"

Castiel stood up a little straighter, despite the aching in his back. "This is my fault," he said, his voice thick with guilt. "Please, Dean. Let me help you. It's the least I can do to say sorry... And thank you."

For a moment, he was convinced Dean was going to say no, but then he peeled off his jacket and lifted his elbow for Castiel to see. There was a criss-cross of scratches – already sticky with blood – and he could see the beginnings of a bruise forming around the wound. It looked nasty, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

"Okay," he said, nodding his head. "Follow me. There's a first aid kit in the back."

To his surprise, Dean did as he was told.

The back room was stuffy and badly lit, but there were a couple of chairs and a decent supply of bandages, so it could've been worse. Castiel helped him across the room ("I've cut my elbow, dude, not broken my fucking leg.") and carefully lowered him into one of the chairs.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, lifting Dean's arm above his head.

"Nah."

"That's good. You probably haven't sprained anything."

"I think I'd know if I had."

Castiel shrugged, not wanting to argue with him. He grabbed a gauze pad from the first aid kit and soaked it under the drinking fountain in the corridor, then gingerly dabbed at the wound on Dean's elbow. He could feel him tensing beneath his touch, but Castiel pretended not to notice. He didn't want to bruise the other boy's pride by acknowledging his pain. He focussed on cleaning the cut instead – wiping away the blood and dressing it with a square piece of cotton. It was while he was busy focussing on his work that he realised something.

Dean had been wearing headphones in the auditorium; Castiel had tried speaking to him several times, only to be ignored due to the loud music smothering his ears. So, there was no way he would've heard the ladder falling. The only way he could've jumped to his rescue so quickly was if he'd been watching him, almost as if he'd been worried for his safety... The thought made his stomach flutter.

"Thank you," he said, obliterating the silence that had fallen over them. He waited for Dean to look him in the eye before adding, "If it weren't for you, I might've seriously hurt myself. Or worse." He flashed a self-depreciating smile. "I should've let you hold the ladder in the first place."

"Yep," Dean said, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.

Castiel chuckled. "Does it still hurt?"

"Never did."

"Liar."

"Says you." Dean folded his arms and smirked. "Why were you rushing with the balloons, huh? You never rush."

Castiel fiddled with the leftover gauze, his thumb twitching anxiously against the soft fabric. "It's ridiculous," he said, allowing himself another smile to dampen the awkwardness. "I saw how close you were to finishing, and I –"

"You wanted to beat me to it?"

"It's petty, I know."

Dean laughed. "You wanna take a spin in the fast lane, is that it? Live a little dangerously for once?"

"Be more like you, you mean?" Castiel shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Ouch, man. That hurts."

"No, I didn't mean it like that, I just... You take such pleasure in breaking the rules, and I guess I don't understand that. The thought of being like you terrifies me."

He expected Dean to laugh at him again, or tease him for being melodramatic. But instead, the other boy leaned forward, a grin slowly spreading across his face, and looked him up and down – not in a mocking kind of way, but an appreciative kind of way. It was enough to make him shiver.

"You wanna be daring?" Dean asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay then... I dare you to kiss me."

Castiel reeled back. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Are you being serious?"

"Deadly."

Castiel swallowed the lump in his throat and got to his feet, desperately blinking back tears. "I knew you were cold, but I didn't think you were cruel."

Dean frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, Dean. You know what you're doing."

"Do I?"

Castiel huffed a watery laugh. "Do you enjoy humiliating people, is that it? You use your charm to win them over, and then you make them feel as small as possible? You're pathetic."

Dean grabbed his arm as he turned to leave, turning him around so their noses were almost touching. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You dared me to kiss you, Dean. Why would you do that?"

"I dunno... 'cause your lips are pretty?"

Castiel growled. "You're an ass."

"Hey, wait! Don't go."

"Why the hell would I stay?"

"I didn't mean to piss you off," Dean said, his voice a touch higher than usual. "Really, I didn't. I just... I thought there was something between us. I guess I was wrong." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm an idiot, okay?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes. He was trying to keep his face impassive, but his heart was beating so fast, it almost hurt. There were tears clinging to his eyelashes, and a blush was staining his cheeks, but he forced himself to face Dean head on. Surprisingly enough, the other boy seemed to be in a similar state.

"What are you saying?"

"I dunno." Dean shrugged. Castiel had never seen him look so vulnerable before. "I guess I... I like you, man. I mean, I have for a while." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know we run in different circles and all that, but... you're fucking adorable."

Castiel blinked. "I'm... adorable?"

"Oh, c'mon. You know you are."

"This is news to me."

Dean shook his head, a small smile touching his lips. "Why d'you think I target you and your stupid committee all the time? I like being around you."

"I..."

"Look, you don't have to say anything." Dean grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, his face hardening into its usual, stone-cold self. "Just forget about it. I'll finish the tables, and then I'll get outta your hair."

Castiel snapped himself out of his stupor and ran after him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and spinning him around.

"I didn't think you actually liked people," he said, sounding like a complete idiot. "I mean... I thought you only dated attractive girls. Since when am I your type?"

Dean licked his lips. "It's different with you."

"How so?"

"It just is!"

"You don't even know me."

"I know enough."

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"You used to tutor my brother," Dean explained. "Sam Winchester. He was struggling with Math, and you helped him out. That's when I started to notice you more." He shrugged again, a nervous habit of his. "It's like you were on my radar or something... And then you became Class President, and suddenly the whole school started to notice you." He smiled. "But I was the first."

Castiel could hear his heart thumping in his ears. "I tutored Sam in Middle School," he said. "That was almost five years ago..."

"I guess I've wanted to kiss you for a long time." Dean grinned. "Even if you _are_ a fucking nerd."

Castiel laughed. He was still touching Dean's shoulder, and he could feel the other boy trembling beneath his palm. It was exhilarating, being able to make someone like Dean Winchester tremble. He felt powerful, desirable. He never wanted to stop touching him like this.

"Well, you're a delinquent," he said, his lips twitching with a smile, "but I've wanted to kiss you for a long time as well."

Dean practically beamed. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

"So... are you gonna?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I think we've already established that I do."

Castiel smirked, his other hand reaching up to palm the back of Dean's neck. "I just wanted to hear you say it again."

Dean took a step closer, his expression turning sly. "I want you to kiss me, Cas."

"Very well."

He snaked his fingers into Dean's hair and guided his head downwards, their lips brushing ever so gently, like two leaves meeting in the breeze. He could feel Dean's hand resting on the small of his back, the other gripping his shoulder like he might disappear at any second. Dean Winchester kissed like he didn't think he deserved it – not with the charm and confidence that Castiel had expected. But somehow, he preferred it this way. It felt real. And that's all he'd ever really wanted.

"You're gorgeous," Dean whispered against his lips.

Castiel leaned back and smirked. "I'm adorable _and_ gorgeous?"

"Yep."

"You're not as tough as you seem, are you?"

Dean shrugged. "Not around the people I actually give a damn about."

"I take that as the highest compliment," Castiel said with a smile, winding his arms around Dean's neck. After a few moments of simply staring into the other boy's eyes, he added, "I should probably finish pinning up these balloons... We graduate tomorrow, remember?"

"I know. It's crazy, right?"

"Very."

"You gonna let me hold the ladder this time?"

Castiel rolled his eyes fondly. "I think I'll allow it."

~~~~~

As he looked out across the sea of familiar faces in the auditorium – each of them beaming with smiles of relief and pride – Castiel gave his final speech as Senior Class President. It wasn't planned; it wasn't rehearsed... It was reckless and daring and messy as hell.

But with Dean standing in the very front row, clapping louder than anyone else in the crowd, it felt absolutely perfect.


End file.
